Down to the Bone Marrow
by LM Simpson
Summary: Crossover with John Carpenter's The Thing. Spending an European summer in Antarctica will be the least troublesome thing for Captain Haddock. completed
1. Chapter One

**Title: **Down to the Bone Marrow  
><strong>Author: <strong>LM Simpson (Kady the Red Panda)  
><strong>Pairing(s): <strong>Friendship! Tintin/Haddock  
><strong>Rating: <strong>M  
><strong>Warning(s): <strong>Language, body horror, blood and gore, suicide attempts, character death, _Thing _spoilers, Calculus BBQ  
><strong>Disclaimer: <strong>As much as I love both series, I will never own the copyrights to Tintin or John Carpenter's "The Thing." That's probably a good thing.**  
>Other tidbits: <strong>For some reason I just really wanted to write a Tintin/Thing crossover. This will generally follow the movie, but with obvious changes. There will be only two survivors by the end of this, though. I'll give y'all a pseudo-hint: I really like RJ Macready from _The Thing_, and Haddock is narrating this story. This will _not _end on a happy note.

Oh, and since the Tintin tomes were created and published over such a long period of time, I just like to pretend that the series takes place overall in the 60s just to keep things tidy (and to make the two "Moon" tomes remain canon). Let's just pretend that Hergé was a serial retconner, m'kay?

**Chapter One**

1111

"We are staying _how long_ in this ice covered wasteland?"

"Captain, I thought you knew how long a wintering over at the South Pole could be."

"No, I did not! Billions of blue blistering barnacles, I thought this was going to be a couple of _weeks_ at the most, not _four months_!"

"You're saying it like that's a _bad_ thing, Captain. I thought you would be at sea for about that long at a time quite often when you were working."

"Yes, but at least the _scenery_ changed every once in awhile!"

I covered my face with a hand and cursed to myself over just what I was thinking when I volunteered for this silly expedition. Or, really, what I was _not_ thinking about when I decided to join.

Tintin may refer to me as the captain, but I have not been one for twenty years. It's 1982; I am sixty-four years old. All of my hair is still on my head, but it's graying along the edges to prove just how many years of experience I have gained all of these years. I have been a captain of my own merchant ship. I have found treasure and regained my family's old estate. I have even been on the moon before Armstrong did (although the Americans refuse to believe it). I should be at my estate right now, living however retirees are supposed to. But I'm not.

Even at forty the lad still has a boyish quality to him under all those toned muscles. He's fascinated by the world like a two year old to whatever is popular with the children these days, and it's no surprise to me that when he found out that our old bumbling friend was going to Antarctica for… something (I can't remember _what _exactly), he promptly went upstairs and packed a couple of suitcases.

He may not be my flesh and blood, but I consider him my own all the same. I want to make sure that he's safe and content all day, every day, even if I have to go and make it that way. I would be happy if I spent the rest of my life at Marlinspike Hall, but it wouldn't be the same without Tintin there. It certainly hasn't been the same since Snowy died, so Heaven forbid if something happened to Tintin because I wasn't there to help him.

Only Tintin would compel me to do stupid stuff like this. Only Tintin would make me go to an American outpost at the South Pole for four months, because I love that lad like he was my own son. Part of me is going to really hate this trip, but at the end of the day I'll be happy as long as he's happy.

"Oh, my!" I heard the professor cry out in the cockpit. "Is that it right over there?"

"Yep!" The American helicopter pilot replied. "There it is!"

"Piss?" Cuthbert sounded very embarrassed as he said the word. It was definitely not something he would say in normal circumstances. I fought the urge to snicker to Tintin's disappointment as he continued "Why… uh, yes sir, I do feel the urge to relieve myself, but I can wait for the little boy's room for another few minutes. The call is not too urgent just yet."

The pilot had gotten used to Cuthbert's tendency to mishear everything after several hours of chitchat from Christchurch to the outpost. So instead of laughing with an incredulous "what?" to every other thing like he did earlier, he said "Sure, sure. We're only a couple of minutes away from landing. And you know what, ah, Calculus? I'll even escort you to the nearest bathroom if you want!"

"Oh, how wonderful! I cannot comprehend why Americans are considered so piggish, what with you being so courteous to me and the whatnot…"

A few minutes later the helicopter jolted. Tintin and I yelped and even went into the air a few inches up when the helicopter finally landed. I did not realize how sore my ears were from the blades whirring until they finally stopped moving.

We heard a bang against the helicopter's cold metal exterior.

"Get your shit together, because we're here!"

I grunted before grabbing my beat up suitcases.

I knew that Antarctica was going to be cold, but blistering barnacles if my four thick layers weren't enough! I dropped my suitcases into the snow as I instinctually hugged my chest and shivered.

"Come on Captain, we need to move," Tintin said in a calm, yet stern, voice as a free pinky attempted to wrap itself around one of my suitcase handles. "Macready said that the wind chill is going to be negative sixty soon. You're going to freeze if you stay out here."

I shoved the pinky away from the handle as I let go of myself and took a thick gloved, yet shivering hand onto it, then grabbed the other.

"I understand, lad. I'm just not used to this climate, you know…"

Tintin and I had our own room in the housing complex. Thundering typhoons, my cabin on the _Karaboudjan _was less drab and more inviting… And I don't remember decorating _that_ with much aside from empty whisky bottles and the occasional lost playing card. The walls and floors were all wood. Hopefully the walls had at least some kind of insulation to keep up from freezing in our sleep. The thick, thermal ash gray sheets atop our military surplus twin beds did not look like that they would successfully do the job on their own.

I laid down on the bed and stretched out. My back, neck, and legs were aching and I felt so wonderful as my movements readjusted everything.

"Captain," Tintin said to burst my bubble of bliss. "I would love to relax as much as you do, but we need to meet with everyone else in the main research building."

My back groaned as loudly as my mouth did as I followed Tintin out of the room. At least that large shack that was the main base was only across from our housing base. Tintin chose the nearest entrance (which we also guessed was the main entrance) and tried to push down the knob… to no effect. I began shivering again as Tintin knocked several times on the door and whistled between each period. The lad had the patience of a saint, that was for sure.

After what felt like forever the door finally opened. The black man was in his twenties, wearing a cooking apron and rollerskates.

"Hello sir," Tintin said. "May we please come in?"

The man let out a laugh and grinned. He turned his head towards what I would presume were the other occupants across the hall and said,

"Hey, guess what, guys? The _Frenchies_ are here!"

_Ugh._ If anything, these penguin chicks of Americans were going to be the death of me…


	2. Chapter Two

**A/N: **For those that have watched the film, Fuchs is not here for a reason. You'll see in the future.

**Chapter Two**

2222

_How am I going to last four months in this place? Thundering typhoons, I'm about to go bonkers after four _hours _with these ectoplasms!_

"Wait, so you're _not_ from France?" The assistant mechanic, Palmer, asked Tintin for the fortieth time. I could hear the kid that greeted us, Nauls, rollerblading just outside the recreation room.

I groaned. Tintin, ever so patient, nodded and repeated once again, "Oh no, I'm from Belgium! To be exact, the Dutch speaking part! (Although, I'll have to admit that French was my first language…) When I was a young reporter I used to live in Brussels, but now I live in the countryside with the captain and the professor."

"Belgian?" He let out a "heh." "So do you know how to make, like, _Belgian_ waffles?"

"Of course! They're actually really simple to make!"

Palmer grinned. Something was up. "Well, how about _you_ make us some?"

Nauls stopped skating right outside the door. "Can you, Tintin? That would be awesome!"

The other Americans, who were all watching a tape on the television, began agreeing enthusiastically.

Tintin replied, "Sure!"

One of the Americans watching television, who just happened to be the overseer of the entire base, barked, "Nauls! These men are part of our team, and are our guests as well! They are _not_ our personal chefs, _you_ are! If we're having waffles for dinner, _you_ will make them! Got that?"

The cook's nose wrinkled. "Yes, Garry."

I placed a hand on his shoulder and whispered, "Tintin! Don't you realize that they were making _fun_ of you?"

"Yes, but we're not going to be with them forever. As soon as we leave, we'll never see them again. Let's just play around with them until they become more… 'accepting.'"

"_Accepting?_ If these wingless midges begin outright bullying you, I'm intervening. No ands, ifs, or buts. Got it?"

Tintin sighed. "Yes, I understand… Well, uh, want to go watch some television with the rest of the crew, Captain?"

I agreed, but only because there was nothing else to do. Palmer studied radio maps and Nauls resumed skating as we left them.

Most, but not all, of the remaining crew were crowded around the couch. There was Garry, Macready the helicopter pilot, the head mechanic Childs (and the only other black member of the crew—everyone else save for the oldest men were hairy brunettes), the sole medical doctor Copper, and the dog handler, Clark.

The others, all scientists and doctors, left after the initial meeting. This included good ol' Cuthbert, who was working in tandem with Norris the geologist, Blair the biologist, and Bennings the meteorologist to investigate why the ozone layer was thinning out over the Antarctic Circle. What I would've given to see those men react to Cuthbert's responses! I'm sure that it would have been much more entertaining than that cheesy game show we were all watching in the recreation room.

"Name a sport that ends with "ball," the game host asked.

Instead of me and maybe Garry, everyone spouted out responses that eventually muddled into word mush:

"Basketball! Baseball! Football! Volleyball!"

"Hand ball!" Tintin cried.

Everyone else, including me, stared at him.

"Hand ball? Last time I checked, that wasn't a real sport," Childs replied.

"Oh yes it is!" Tintin snapped back, somehow managing to not sound completely like a whining four year old.

The contestant yelled, "Uh… Hand ball!"

"Okay, let's see if you're right," Childs said. "This is our first time watching this particular tape."

"Survey says…"

The scoreboard revealed that five people replied with such an answer.

"…I rest my case."

We continued watching the remaining four episodes of _Family Feud_ recorded on the video cassette before it cut to a blue screen. By then I was ready to pull the hair atop my scalp off from boredom. Not even the occasional flub made that show entertaining to me!

"Would anyone else want to watch _The Price is Right_ with me now?" Clark asked.

"No, I would not like to, nor do I want to watch any other game show!" I immediately replied. If it wasn't for my aching back, I would've jumped right up like there was no tomorrow. As I grabbed my aching buttocks, I began to step towards the door.

"Well, we have non-game show tapes," Clark said, "Like _The Brady Bunch_ and a few episodes of _Joanie Loves Chachi._"

I growled, both out of distaste and from my aching body. "No, I would rather like to take a nap, thank you very much."

"Have someone go out with you then," Garry said. "We practice the buddy system here and we strictly enforce it."

"I'll go with him," Tintin said. "I feel like I need a nap as well."

He grunted as he rose up and stood beside me.

"Do you need any help, Captain?"

"Thanks, but no thanks. I think I'm capable of moving on my own."

Compared to the compound, which while warm was not sauna hot, meeting with Antarctica's chill head-on once again made me shiver again. I found myself the urge to walk soon after. Our boots crunched against the snow under our soles as we slowly progressed step by step. All we heard was our breaths and the light (and I use that term loosely) wind beating against us.

Then, we heard something else.

"Do you hear that?"

"Yes, lad, I do. 'Sounds like a… helicopter, don't you think?"

"Yeah…"

Tintin and I turned our heads in every direction our middle aged necks would permit us. After much frantic looking, we finally noticed a little black object on the snow, running towards the outpost.

Tintin looked up and pointed.

"Look, Captain…"

I looked up as well. Whatever that thing in the distance was, a helicopter was following it. But w_hy_?


	3. Chapter Three

**A/N: **Holy shit! I've finally posted a new chapter to this! *slaps self in disbelief*

I'll start deviating slightly from the movie just to not keep it like "The Thing" with Tintin characters inserted into it. I'm so sorry that this chapter is so similar to the film.

**Chapter Three**

3333

Tintin and I stood there in the snow, our necks straining as we watched the helicopter fly over the black object.

My friend placed a hand above his eyes and squinted. He yelled over the increasingly noisy chopper: "Captain—the helicopter's chasing a _dog_."

"A what?"

"A dog! Look! Can't you see it?"

I squinted as well. I could just see something black with white stripes running. "Blistering barnacles, you can still see at that distance?"

We heard gunshots in the plane's direction and instinctively jumped back in response.

"What the—"

Several of the Americans, all engulfed in parkas, ran outside to investigate what was going on outside as the black helicopter progressively lowered to a spot just yards from the outpost. Even I could see the word "NORGE" in big white letters on the tail.

"What the hell are the Norwegians doing here for?" Windows hollered. He looked at Tintin and I. "Do you guys know what's going on?"

"No!" Tintin yelled. "We're just as clueless as you are!"

Another shot. Everyone except for Macready jolted.

The blades still whirled as its two passengers hopped out. One ran after the dog, shooting at it (and missing it) a couple more times. Even though it was surely a mindless, suicidal move on our parts, the four Americans, Tintin, and I advanced closer towards the twosome. The Husky (or was it a Malamute?) pounced towards us, landing on Bennings. It stood on its hind paws as it… licked him. Which was a normal dog thing, I guess—Snowy used to do that all the time. It _seemed_ harmless enough.

We all stared at the scene, trying to figure out what in the world was going through this mad man's mind to make him want to shoot the dog, when we heard a loud boom. The helicopter and the pilot were gone; in its place was an orange fireball.

Closer to us was the rifleman, standing a few yards from us. He aimed at us, or specifically Bennings and the dog, and began yelling something that was not in English. Regardless of whether he was speaking English or Norwegian, his tone revealed he was spouting threats… Perhaps out of fear?

"Tintin, what is he saying?" I whispered.

"I actually don't know," He replied. "I don't know a single word in Norwegian, I'm afraid."

I gasped. _Tintin? Tintin the polyglot who helped translate for me so many times, did not know any Norwegian? _"You mean—"

Another bang. The dog jumped away. Bennings screamed in pain, clutching at his left knee. I could see some red drops dyeing the white snow. As soon as I comprehended that, the Norwegian shot again and again. Bang bang bang, the bullets went, burying into snow and ricocheting against metal. We ran for what cover we could. MacReady and Windows dove into a snow dune. Clark curled into a ball against a tractor. Tintin and I retreated to the other side of the outpost. Bennings, meanwhile, collapsed on all fours into the snow.

More bangs. I trembled as I sneaked a peek towards where the Americans were. The rifleman still targeted the dog, sure enough. But there was no telling what he would do when he was done with it.

He attempted one more shot at the dog as it ran toward the helicopter hangar. But instead of a bang, there was a click. Tintin and I heard glass shatter on the other side of the outpost. Before either of us could whisper something about it another shot came, only this one was from a handgun. I heard no more from the rifleman after that.

When we did not hear anything else for a few minutes, Tintin and I decided that the coast was clear. We stepped slowly back to the clearing, and back toward Bennings, as did the other three unharmed teammates.

Meanwhile the remainder of the Americans, plus Cuthbert, marched outside after Garry. Save for Cuthbert, who was in an olive windbreaker and wool cap, everyone else was properly dressed for the weather. Together we advanced to the hangar. One of the windows was broken. Straight across from it was the rifleman, lying face down on the ground.

Garry kicked the shooter face up. A bullet in his head. Probably died instantly.

The dog rushed towards us again. Clark squatted down and petted him. The dog did not wag its tail, or show any other way of expressing emotion whatsoever. Even guard dogs could express joy, sadness, anger openly. That was just a dog's nature; they're such emotional creatures after all. But this dog didn't. Even its eyes lacked emotion. Perhaps the Norwegian was trying to warn us about…

"That dog acts really odd, doesn't it, Tintin? …Tintin?"

I suddenly realized that Tintin was no longer by my side. I did not even have to guess where he could have been.

"May I pet him too, Clark?" Tintin asked.

"Tintin!" I said. "Don't you—"

"Of course. Go ahead," Clark said.

Tintin was probably too happy to see a dog to realize that it was acting so peculiar.

"Aw, you are such a friendly guy, aren't ya?" Tintin said, running his gloved hands all over the strange animal. "You know what? I'm going to name you Tilikum."

"Tilikum?" Clark asked.

"It means "friend" in an Inuit language. Of course, no one is ever going to replace my best furry friend, but…" Tintin fought a tear from falling. "…He should do until I return to Belgium…"

Garry interrupted what little opportunity there was for further discussion or grief over Snowy's passing.

"It's getting colder, men! We should all go back outside! Windows, try to radio the Norwegian station! Clark, kennel the mutt! Everyone else, try not to stay in trouble!..."

3333

All I wanted was to take a nap. But since Tintin decided to accompany Clark to the kennel and Cuthbert, as usual, did not seem to hear me, I laid down on the couch and groaned and moped. I expected to hear someone put a tape into the VHS player soon, but instead I heard…

I groaned. _Billions of blue blistering barnacles! Can't I be spared from the 'Milanese Nightingale' at the South Pole?_

I laid my back against an armrest. Palmer was by the stereo, smoking what appeared to be a joint. He giggled like an idiot as he tried to sing off-key with Castafiore.

"Palmer? PALMER!"

He still ignored me.

I grumbled as I left the couch and went to the stereo. I searched for the "eject" button, pressed it, and grabbed the cassette.

"Hey, hey, hey! The fuck you doing, man?" Palmer yelled as I threw it to the ground and stomped on it several times.

"I! Am! Doing! This! For! Our! Own! Good!" I kicked the remains towards the wall, under the table, before inhaling from exhaustion.

"Thanks, Haddock!" MacReady said, playing chess on the computer. "I was going to go nuts if I heard that goose sing that goddamned song one more time…"

The computer chirped, "Checkmate!"

MacReady plowed a fist onto the table. "You cheating bitch!" He yelled, grabbing his coffee cup and pouring it all over the contraption. Sparks flew from it.

I snapped this time. "Hey! I wanted to try that thing out later, MacReady!"

Before I could continue saying anything, Copper came into the recreation room.

"Hey, uh, MacReady. Garry would like someone to go investigate the Norwegian base. Will you be ready to fly within the next ten minutes?"

MacReady stared at the still smoking computer. He shrugged. "Well, I got nothing else to do… Who's going?"

"I'll stay here, thank you very much..." I said.

But that was before Copper said: "You, me, and Calculus."

"…Can I go with you guys?"


	4. Chapter Four

**A/N: **In case anyone is wondering why Calculus and Haddock are so surprised at their find, remember that they (and everyone else except for Snowy) had their memories wiped out at the end of _Flight 714_.

**Chapter Four**

**4444**

It was still quite light out, considering that the winter darkness would take over soon. But when Cuthbert and I were allowed out of the cargo hold, black smoke spewed into the air. I had no idea when the fire started or what was smoking in the first place. But evidently there was still enough fuel to keep it alive for awhile.

Copper, MacReady, Cuthbert and I cautiously moved inside, the first two carrying lanterns and the professor and I torchlights. None of us said a word as we saw the interior for the first moments. None of us even could if we wanted to, because all of our jaws dropped as far as we could at what we witnessed.

If you had told me that this was a modern base, I would have laughed in your face, easily. The Norwegian camp looked like it was a rundown old house. The only light besides our own items came from gaping holes on the walls, like something smashed through them. Snow was everywhere: on the floor, all over equipment, even the doorknobs. Icicles, giant ones the size of stalagmites, had formed along the ceiling. This place was a death trap. I shivered, and not just because of the Antarctic chill.

"HEY! Is anyone in here?" MacReady called out.

"Blistering barnacles!" I snapped in a lower voice. "Do you want us to get killed, you dimwit?"

"Do you really believe that anyone could be here?" Copper asked.

Copper had a point. If we did find anyone here, they were probably frozen solid at this point, the poor souls.

The doctor snapped just above a whisper, "Calculus! Get back here!"

Cuthbert did not hear him. Of course he didn't—he usually doesn't. Instead of re-joining us at the other side of the room, he slowly opened a door. Snow dusted him like powdered sugar as it moved forward. He entered the next room, with us following behind as quickly as we could without triggering the icicles.

When we caught up with him, Cuthbert was examining an object. A flash of his torch revealed it was an axe driven into the wall. A closer look on my part revealed blood spattered about on the blade and handle.

The professor faced us. "Quite fascinating, isn't it? It appears that there was a duel of some sort. Perhaps even… (a finger tapped his chin) an invasion?"

"An invasion of _what, _Cuthbert?" I asked. "We're in Antarctica- what could there be to invade a science camp?"

The man was still in the little world his deafness tended to give him. He stepped away from the blade, turned the corner into another room, as he muttered to himself, "Or perhaps there was a spree killing here..."

The room we visited next was the radio room. Or, at least it was. Same as before, everything was black and white, except for the first splash of color I saw anywhere since we arrived at this place.

I turned white when I realized where the red came from.

"Holy shit," MacReady said.

Copper took inspected the corpse in the office chair. His face gaped in an O, and he was covered with blood and snow. Along his right arm were huge drips of blood, long enough to be halfway to the floor, frozen solid and covered in snow. There was a faint outline of a snow covered gun in his hand.

The professor "tsked." "If my spree murder hypothesis stands, then perhaps this man shot himself after killing his partners. Maybe the cabin fever was just too much for him in the end."

"Then where are the rest of the bodies?" Copper asked. "This is the first corpse we've found."

"Mound? Yes, maybe there is a burial mound somewhere in the back. Let's check before we leave."

Our (or, rather, the two scientist's) attention turned to the potential for documents in the room. Copper and Cuthbert grabbed whatever documentation they could find: recordings, video tape, yellowed papers. I stayed at the suicide victim, my mind overcome with the sight of the frozen blood. Lord help me if I died frozen solid. MacReady stood by the doorway to yet another room.

"What are you guys finding?" He asked.

Copper shuffled through his papers. "They're all in Norwegian, but I think we should keep them regardless. The tapes should be of some use, at least."

"'Kay, but we should hurry up. It's going to get dark soon."

He opened the door and entered.

"Guys. Get in here, now!"

I dragged Cuthbert into the room with me. Copper and MacReady stared into this giant block of ice, definitely large enough for a man to fit into, on a large, metal laboratory table. When I peeked into it, all I could see was a huge crater, like something, whatever was in there, was removed. Strange.

The ice block was on all of our minds as we finished a quick inspection of all the rooms and left at the opposite side of the camp.

"What was in that hole?" MacReady finally asked outloud.

"It was probably a fossil," Copper replied. "A fossil of an animal and they got it out of the ice for a closer look."

"But where _is it_, the—" He turned his head. "Look at this…"

We remaining three followed MacReady to take a closer look at his find. Along with scattered paraffin cans, there was a large, fleshy pile on the ice.

"Blistering… Barnacles…"

And I thought the previous corpse was shocking. But this… it was like a human rat king. Elongated limbs and heads all in one heap of burnt human flesh. I could see two impossibly stretched faces attached to necks twisted like caramel sweets, but that was it. Whatever it was, it was something I had never seen before.

"I think we should bring it with us back to base," MacReady said.

"Yes…" Copper said. "But then there's no more room for Calculus and Haddock."

"I can just make two trips," MacReady suggested.

"Go ahead," I instantly replied, "I wouldn't touch that _thing_ with a ten foot pole."

"Well too bad," Copper said, "Because we're going to need all the help we can get putting it in the cargo hold."

There were two things I wanted more than anything in the world after we loaded the helicopter and the Americans flew away: a nap, and a shower. I was going to make sure to get a through wash upon returning to the outpost, but the nap… Only extreme fatigue was going to make me fall asleep any time soon.

Cuthbert and I waited for MacReady's pickup at the outpost entrance. We leaned against a wall, shoulder to shoulder, to give each other additional warmth our parkas and pullovers could not provide us. At least, that was the initial, unspoken plan.

"Cuthbert! CUTHBERT! Get back here!"

I chased him to the other side of the burned out building. The smoke now came in whispers instead of screams, but it was getting dark. Before long, twenty four hour darkness would begin. If we strayed far enough, MacReady's chance of finding us would be like a snowball's chance in hell. Being the idiot I was, I had a flare _gun_ but I did not have any _flares_.

Cuthbert stopped in front of a large crater. His pendulum was suspended in the air, right at its douser's eye level.

I finally reached him, stood to his right. "Thundering typhoons, Cuthbert! What were you think—"

Once again, my jaw dropped.

Unlike the block in the former laboratory, there was something at the bottom of it. Something gigantic. Something metallic. Something saucer shaped.

_This can't be really happening to me…_

"… CUTHBERT!"

The professor slid down the side of the crater, keeping himself as sturdy as he could without any sort of gear. He must've gone several meters down before finally falling and sliding down the rest of the way like a penguin before striking the UFO-thing. He did not move, at least not what I could see with my own, failing eyesight.

"PROFESSOR! CUTHBERT! CUTHBERT CALCULUS! ANSWER ME!"

To my surprise, he hopped right up to his feet. He clutched his head and then dusted the snow from his olive parka. For a man older than me, he was just fine. I would be surprised if there was a scratch on him, judging from how well he moved about post-fall. Cuthbert was always full of surprises, that was for sure.

He muttered to himself (I could not tell the exact words—he was too far), collected some samples somehow (I heard faint clicks and bangs against metal), and then looked around.

"Oh my!" He called out. "It appears that I require assistance, Captain! Lead our pilot here when he arrives!"

MacReady was just as annoyed as I was when we had to drop a ladder down to rescue Cuthbert. None of us talked about the object on the way back to US Outpost 31. We were all too fatigued from the day's events and findings. That conversation would have to occur another day.


	5. Chapter Five

**Chapter Five**

5555

The last image that popped into my mind before I closed my eyes was of the creature-thing.

The first thing that occurred to me in my dream was the sound of glass shattering. The main outpost building was on fire—I was in the recreation room, coughing as I covered my mouth and nose with a hand. Amidst the thick smoke I could see a wide trail of blood on the floor, starting from the door to behind me. I saw a body on the couch.

"TINTIN!"

The heat and lack of air was excruciating, but at the very least I had to get Tintin out. He had a couple more decades to live as far as I was concerned.

I reached out my free hand towards him. Tintin had blood dripping from his lip and from cuts all over his body. He was more red than fleshy pink, or ginger orange, for that matter. I could also see one of his bones sticking out from his arm, right above his elbow. He attempted to move farther against the couch despite how clearly injured he was.

"Get back! Get back!" He rasped.

"Tintin, it's me! Come on, lad! Let me help y—"

"NO! Get away from me! Archie, _please_ get away!"

Tintin never referred to me on a first name basis. The poor lad was clearly losing it in this place. We had to get out of there.

I crouched over toward him. He grunted as he tried to push me back with his broken arm. When his hand made contact, it stuck to me like it was smothered in superglue.

"What the—"

"Oh no…" Tintin was on the verge of crying now. "No no no no no no no no…"

As I attempted to pull back, his fingers only stretched. I could hear the bones snapping as the flesh extended like they were going through a taffy puller. Tintin screamed as his face contorted like one of those Picasso paintings- a long droopy eye where his mouth would be and the what not. I only finally comprehended that I was screaming too when I realized I was being absorbed into Tintin. Long, red, muscular tentacles popped from where the broken bone originally stuck out and wrapped around me, pushing me further into Tintin. I screamed and I screamed and I screamed, until—

"Captain! Captain!... CAPTAIN!"

I screamed in real life when I noticed Tintin's huge cranium just inches away from my face.

I clutched my chest as he jumped back. "Blistering barnacles! What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?"

"No, not at all! You were just screaming and jumping in your sleep. Were you having a nightmare, Captain?"

My heartbeat slowed. "Do you _really_ have to ask, lad?"

Tintin sighed and blushed. "It's… Just a natural question. Sorry about that… It's just that… All of you were acting so _strange_ when you came back from the Norwegian base. So quiet. So disturbed. I noticed Copper, MacReady, and Blair bringing something into the biological lab before MacReady picked up Calculus and you, but I couldn't get a good look at it. And whenever I tried to ask anyone about it, I was ignored. Well, except for when Blair told me outright to 'shut my trap.' …What _did_ you find over there?"

I looked around our bare little room as I attempted to summarize what we found. Eventually, I just shook my head.

"Honestly, Tintin, I'm not so sure of _what_ we found myself."

5555

I had a slightly clearer idea of what we had uncovered after eating the rollerblade kid's poor excuse for meatloaf and mashed potatoes.

Childs, Windows, and I were watching another American game show, _Wheel of Fortune, _when MacReady swung the door open.

"Hey, Haddock!" He said. "Calculus wants you!"

A woman requested a "K" for a puzzle that was clearly "Down on the Animal Farm" when I gladly departed the room with MacReady and followed him to the biological laboratory.

When I entered the room, I noticed the creature-thing on the metal table in the center of the room with a large white sheet over everything but the face (faces?). There were two other computers on one wall and instruments and other science-y stuff on the opposite wall. Cuthbert, Blair, and Copper accompanied us in the room.

When I last saw the blob, it was covered in ice and snow. Thundering typhoons, I think I would rather have had it stay that way, because when it was defrosted you could see everything. If Tintin and I had fused at the side of our faces in my nightmare, then we could have easily replaced that thing on the table.

A hand on my back made me jump once again.

"Oh, I'm sorry my friend," my favorite professor said. "I did not notice that you were so engrossed at our discovery. Quite gruesome, isn't it?"

"No shit," I heard MacReady mutter.

"Cuthbert, how… How in the world did two people fuse together like this? How _could_ two people fuse together like this?"

"That's the problem," Blair answered. "It isn't two people."

I raised a brow. "What do you mean, it isn't two people? Look at it! It's like I'm looking at freaky Siamese twins when I look at it!"

"What he means, Haddock," Copper said, "Is that we only found one set of human organs when we cut it open. It's one organism, not two."

For a moment, I lost the ability to speak.

"Are you _shitting_ me?" MacReady asked.

The scientists were not finished opening cans of worms just yet.

"Oh, and guess what I found out about the mysterious craft, Captain?" Cuthbert said. "The material is not like anything from this planet! And from the depth of the crater it was in, it has been in the ice for over ten thousand years!"

"What are you saying, professor?" I asked. I knew the answer. I just didn't want to admit the outrageous conclusion to myself.

Cuthbert appeared more giddy than anything. He grabbed my hands and tried swinging me about like I was a confounded rag doll. "My friend, we have uncovered an actual unidentified flying object! We are not alone in this universe! Oh, isn't this amazing?"

He let go, finally. If I was drunk, the laboratory would've looked similar, the double vision was so bad. My head still ached as I asked,

"Yeah, yeah… But what about whatever was in the UFO? Where's the alien, then?" I pointed to the creature on the table. "Is _that_ it?"

"Copper, Blair, MacReady! We have made history! We will be in history books over this discover—"

An alarm blared. As abrupt as the alarm came about, the professor's joy turned to confusion at our distress.

"What is going on?" He asked as Blair and Copper ran out first.

"It sounds like something is going on at the dog kennel," MacReady said. "Come on, Haddock. Grab the deaf guy. Unless Tintin or Clark decided that today would be a great day to pull the alarm for the shits and giggles, something's wrong."

I growled. "Don't you _dare_ blame Tintin for something like this, you conniving weasel!"

I wanted to continue yelling at MacReady over the matter, but my "papa" mode got the best of me. What if the problem was an accident? And what if that accident _did _have to do with Tintin?


	6. Chapter Six

**A/N: **Okay, now I'm going through a very general outline of the film at this point. There will be key scenes like the famous blood scene, but otherwise it will be like as if adding Tintin, Haddock, and Calculus into the picture overall fucked up the movie timeline. I hope you guys don't mind. If you have never seen the movie, do not accept what happens here as fact.

**Chapter Six**

(Route) 66 (Route) 66

It was that dog. It had to be that blasted mongrel. I knew that that dog couldn't be trusted. We should've just let that Norwegian shoot it when he had the chance.

When Cuthbert and I reached the dog kennel, everyone else was already there and staring in the same direction, towards the dog cages. All I could hear was noise—men yelling, dogs barking, alarms blaring. It took a few seconds, but I found Tintin at the very front of the crowd.

"Tintin!" I said when I got to his side. "Are you okay, lad?"

Tintin stood erect, did not seem to react to me. His freckles stood out on his drained cheeks. He gulped before saying, "Great snakes…"

I finally faced directly forward. In the center kennel there was a yellow substance all over the wooden walls, the concrete floor, the dogs. The dogs, or at least the two of the three alive ones, stood their ground against the mysterious dog that caused all of this mess. Their ears set back, their teeth glistening in their snarls… There were two half eaten corpses with their throats and vital organs torn out on the floor beside the alien dog, who as usual did not react in any way whatsoever.

Then I noticed something yellow dripping from the weird dog's front leg, probably from a bite in self-defense.

Blood.

"Looks like we found your alien Haddock," Copper, similarly aghast, said. More noisy chatter ensued.

"Clark, where's a gun?" I asked.

"I'll go grab a couple," He said before scrambling through the crowd.

"Captain, what are you—"

"That's not a real dog, boy!" Blair replied to our right. "Don't you see that blood?"

"But is that any reason to kill my friend?" Tintin asked.

"_He_ _fucking ate the dogs_, you peace loving Frenchie!" Palmer said behind us. "We're not safe with that thing around!"

"How would _you_ know? Maybe he just likes dogs!" Tintin pointed a finger at Palmer. "Please, at the very least just separate him from the others! You can monitor him for science observations if that's what you want! But please don't shoot Tilikum!"

Clark came back with two large guns: a rifle and a flamethrower.

The lad ran from me. "Tintin—"

Tintin retreated to the very front of the cage. "Don't you dare get any closer, Clark! I won't allow it over my dead body!"

"Tintin lad, what are you doing? Get back here with the rest of us!"

"And rejoin a gang of _killers_?"

"I think that we should feed him to the dog," I heard Palmer say.

I turned red, balled up my fists. The next thing I knew I was in the center of the crowd, on top of Palmer and punching him to a near bloody pulp. Someone grabbed me from around my waist and attempted to jerk me up.

"Mastermind! Supervillian! Barbarian! Let me go! Thundering typhoons, LET ME GO! I'm not finished with that pussy-footed pothead!"

Windows and Garry pinned me against the wall, perpendicular to the kennel cages. Childs, meanwhile, picked up an unconscious Tintin from the edge of the cage. I saw a wrench on the floor.

"Childs! You better have not killed him!" I yelled. My captors pushed me further into the wall whenever I jerked forward.

He grunted as Copper and Cuthbert grabbed the reporter's legs. "Don't worry! He's just knocked out cold. A little trip to Dreamland and he'll be just fine, trust me."

MacReady grabbed the rifle from Clark and moved forward.

"Okay, everyone! Get back! I said, get back!"

He opened the cage door. The two surviving dogs scrambled out for their lives. For the first and only time, the dog reacted. It growled as its fur sloughed off the floor like needles on a dying Christmas tree. Two giant arms, arms and hands larger than mine, jumped out of the thing's back. The fingers moved about as if they were manipulating a marionette, but those limbs were nothing compared to what else came out. Slender tentacles ripped out from throughout its body, slithered about in the air and on the concrete floor.

The floor tentacles crawled towards MacReady like a red tide coming in. He shot one, twice. The thing made an unearthly scream, something between a woman's and a movie monster's before one of the tentacles shot out and wrapped around the gun barrel. MacReady engaged in a tug o war over the gun until Clark intervened with the flamethrower. Its final screams came at such a high pitch that I'm surprised that it didn't crack the windows in the room. I doubted anyone else had any thought of anything else except for the burning mongrel until we smelled and saw smoke. A flame devoured tentacle transferred fire to the blasted wall as it slid to the floor.

"Oh, shit…" Clark said. "Quick, someone grab a fire extinguisher!"

(Route) 66 (Route) 66

After the alien was confirmed dead, Blair and Calculus promptly transported it to the biological laboratory on the sole stretcher in the whole forsaken place. Cuthbert was quite peeved that "such a significant find" was barbequed, but he hoped to look at its cellular structure and general anatomical composition before anyone even gave a thought about disposing of or further destroying it.

MacReady and Clark stayed to clean up the blood. Childs inspected the equipment in the room to make sure it was in tip top shape. Norris and Copper worked on the dead dogs, taking samples or whatever scientists do. Nauls and Palmer were to corral the escaped dogs. Garry commanded Windows and Bennings to take turns with the radio to reach contact with someone, anyone.

I cradled Tintin back into the recreation room before I lost the strength to go on further. I was still strong for my age, but I was also getting older. My sixty-something year old body could not do things like my forty-something year old body could. I would need to take a little break before I got back to our room. At least I made sure to prop his head against something (a sofa arm), unlike what was done to him at the dog kennel.

I sighed as I sat down on the floor, my back against the flattened-springed couch. The recreation room was supposed to be an oasis, a place to escape from the stresses of the job. My study at Marlinspike fit that description quite well, even long after I retired.

Not with this place. It wasn't a safe place. It was more like a trench to hide in in-between conflict. The shots I heard right after I sat on my bum (presumably for those poor, innocent dogs) only made that even clearer.

Every time I was in the room, I swear, it appeared that there would be some sort of calamity soon to come. The first time, there was the Norwegians coming after the dog-thing. Then there was the investigation at the Norwegian camp and the discoveries that stemmed from that. And then…

I heard a man screaming and running.

I groaned. _If this keeps happening, I'm just going to stay in my room for the next three and a half months, _I thought.

Windows popped his head into the room, panting.

"What is it _this time_?"

"It's Bennings… Bennings is—"

Windows was clearly distraught, whatever it was with the meteorologist.

"Just… Just come with me!"

I attempted to pick up Tintin.

"Forget him for a minute! This is urgent!"

We ran down the hall into the storage room next door to the radio room. I did not see any sign of Bennings ever being inside.

"B-but, but-! He was right here just a second ago! There was another alien, too! "

"You mean there's more here?"

_Maybe Cuthbert_ was _onto something when he speculated about an invasion…_

"Well, I saw one fucking grab him!"

Then we noticed the smashed up, bloody window by a huge stack of cardboard boxes. It was small, but—

"Come on! Let's go!"

We grabbed parkas, sounded the second alarm that day. When we got outside, we could see an outline of a man grabbing himself like as if his intestines were spilling out of his stomach. The figure ran and ran until tripping and landing on his knees onto the snow.

By the time we caught up with Bennings, most of the crew were scrambling out to see what was going on as well. If this was what was going to happen for the rest of my time here, don't barricade me—shoot me. Just shoot me. This running in circles hullaballoo got old after the first time.

"Get back! Get back! GET THE HELL BACK!" Windows yelled. "Another thing's got him! GET THE FUCK BACK!"

We circled around Bennings. I stood behind him, beside the helicopter pilot. MacReady lit a flare by some snow covered paraffin barrels.

"It's not Bennings!" Clark declared.

If it weren't for the flood lights, I would not have noticed the bloody, clawed, barbed stretched hands this Bennings-thing had when it turned around, as if to look square at _me_. But even if I had the worst hearing in the world, I would have heard it scream, prove that human Bennings was gone for good.

Unlike the dog thing at the kennel, the scream sounded like a low moan, a moan that sounded like it was coming from three thousand kilometers below the Earth. I wouldn't be surprised if that was a sound from the depths of Hell. At least, that's how I heard it—Cuthbert clutched his ears and screamed in agony.

"Make it stop! Ow, ow, ow! Stop it! (He dropped to his knees and cried in pain) It's _burrowing_ into my head!"

He continued contributing to the screaming and digging his fingernails into his skull when MacReady tossed a barrel open and set it on fire with a flare. My friend only finally stopped screaming when the second fire-consumed alien-thing was silenced for good.

Once again, we were all speechless as we looked at the corpse, kicked snow over it. As I helped Cuthbert back to his feet, the main questions in my head were:

_What in the world is happening? And what in the world is going to happen to us?_


	7. Chapter Seven

**Chapter Seven**

7777

If I could, I would have placed Tintin in the infirmary. But the place did not have one bed in it, so in our room he went. I only took off his boots and his teal jacket and pullover before covering him with his bedsheets.

I spent most of the night (or, rather, what the clock said was night) awake in Tintin's and my room. I _wanted_ to sleep, of course. I just couldn't. After what happened the previous night, I was petrified at the thought of what my next nightmare would be like. A mutated Tintin absorbing me was bad enough.

I left the lamp on and monitored Tintin. Part of me felt like a stalker watching him like this, sitting on my unmade bed with my feet inches from the floor, but I wanted to make sure that Childs really did not hurt him badly. Tintin always got his head smacked against something, but you can only be lucky with that sort of thing only so many times. If he was slurring or incomprehensible when he woke up I was going to summon Copper to our room faster than Snowy finding a bone and chasing towards it.

…

"Snowy…"

I heard a grunt. I looked up—Tintin stirred. I instantly moved towards him, then realized that maybe I was too close to someone that was sleeping, like how Tintin was with me last time. I took two steps back just when half open, bright blue eyes sighted me.

Tintin clutched his head and groaned. He attempted to rise, but I lightly pushed him down.

"Now you just lie down! You need the time to recuperate! Are you listening to me, lad? Can you hear me?"

He nodded weakly from fatigue. "Y-yes, Cap… What happen'd to Tili—"

I sighed. I should might as well just get this inevitable mess out of the way. "I'm sorry, Tintin. He's dead. They killed all of the dogs in that kennel, the whole lot of them."

Tintin misted up. "Why? Why did they—"

"The dog alien attacked MacReady. The other dogs… I don't know. I just hope it was a mercy killing. And they're not the only ones killed last night. Bennings is dead too."

"Bennings? Who was he ag'in?"

"The meteorologist. I don't know how, but I think Tilikum infected him. At least, I doubt that Bennings was one of those things until last night. I'm still not sure at all as to what is going on."

Tintin's pupils faced the wall behind his bed. "Cap'n…"

"Tintin?"

"Who hit me?"

"Childs. The mechanic. With a wrench, I think."

"Was there a metal bang? When he hit me?"

Tintin was hit in the head multiple times over his life to the point it could be considered a running gag, but it took the same car accident where Snowy was run over for him to finally need a metal plate in his head. When he tried to go after Snowy, he was struck as well. He slid up the hood, smashed through the windshield, and knocked heads with the driver. Part of his skull was smashed up to bits. It took a couple of years for the poor lad to go back to himself (or, as close as you can go back to yourself after such an incident), but he was always conscious about that blasted metal plate.

"To be honest, I'm not so sure. I was giving Palmer a good wallop when that happened. But I didn't hear anyone talk about it afterwards, so it wasn't a big enough detail on the other men's radar, I guess.

"But don't worry about that, lad. I'm worried more about you. I think it's best for you to take a break in here today."

"But Cap'n, it's jus' a hit on the head!"

"You're getting older, Tintin. You just don't recover as fast as you do when you're in your teens or twenties like you do in your forties. Get some sleep. You certainly need it from the looks of it. I'll bring you food and have Copper see you later today. Got that?"

Tintin mumbled something and closed his eyes. I checked him one more time turned off the lamp before grabbing a bite to eat.

Military food was guaranteed to taste awful, but this kid's cooking was pretty bad even by those standards. If the watery tomato soup was of any use, maybe it would give Tintin's head the incentive to heal faster. Or, something like that. I am certainly not a doctor.

Copper and I were just about to leave the main building with a medical kit and a soup filled thermos when Garry announced that everyone needed to congregate in the meeting room. He promised "grave penalty" if we ignored the order.

"Blistering barnacles, this has better be important…"

It was.

Cuthbert drank some coffee from a purple thermos. He shook, though I'm not sure whether it was from fear, fatigue, or a mix of both. "My teammate and I have spent all night looking at cellular samples from all three 'alien' corpses. Our findings are fascinating as well as frightening."

"How?" I asked.

"Now? Captain, you must be more patient. If you waited just two more seconds—"

Blair covered his mouth. "What Calculus is trying to say is that the actual organisms are deceased, but there are still cells active on a certain level. We tested animal cell samples in our room and placed them in the same petri dishes as the 'alien' cells. The cells from the corpses did not just take over the animal cells, but they also imitated the original animal cells afterward. It's an artificial, near perfect copy of the original cells. That would explain why the things could resemble dogs or Bennings so well."

"How does infection start in the first place?" Childs asked.

"We do not know. We need to do more tests, more examinations. There is a great concern, though-there isn't even a hive mentality with the cells. Both the unaffected and assimilated white blood cells attacked the alien cells. One of us could be infected and we would _never_ know until it was long too late. We would not had known that Bennings was taken over if it was not for Windows walking onto him."

"Jesus Christ," Windows, completely sheet white, murmured.

"I believe that it is best for us to take blood samples from everyone and then to examine them. Anyone that is infected would then be quarantined. But we need everyone's cooperation."

Blair uncovered the professor's mouth, bent down to grab something under the table.

Cuthbert red face showed precisely what he was feeling. "Why I never! Such a childish thing to do to I, a prestigious man of science! I have never been so insulted in my life! Why, I demand a frank apology, you g—"

Blair shut his mouth again. "Now who would like to go first?"

7777

"Morning, landlubber," I told Tintin when he got up late into the next morning. "How is that head of yours?"

"It feels much better, Captain." His thermal sock covered feet met with the floor. He stretched before adding, "Thanks for asking."

"You _sound_ much better, that is for sure."

Tintin smiled. He opened his mouth.

But before his vocal cords constructed a sound, we heard a bang. Not a gun bang, but more so a bang from an explosive. Shortly after that, we heard a second.

"Great snakes," Tintin said, rushing to where I placed his parka and boots. "What in the world is going on?"

When we left the housing complex, the only thing we could see in the dark, snowy sky were orange flames and thick puffs of black smoke. It was coming from behind the main complex, which only meant one thing…

We caught up with the rest of the men save for Cuthbert and Blair outside the hangar. There were no more helicopters—they were all engulfed in flames, or only remained as frames.

MacReady, being the pilot, was the most shocked. "Who the fuck destroyed—"

Cuthbert emerged from the hangar.

The pilot rushed towards the professor. "You little fucker! I oughta—"

I did not expect Cuthbert to take out a handgun. But, he did.

"Do not advance!" Cuthbert said, the gun hand shaking. "I more than insist! Desist from advancing immediately or I will shoot to kill!"

MacReady moved. A bang went off, but it did not strike MacReady.

"Why did you destroy everything that could take us out of this place?"

"We can never leave! Blair is destroying communications as we speak!"

"Son of a bitch!" Windows retreated back inside.

"We can't leave? Stop spouting nonsense, Cuthbert!"

"We must die here, or risk bringing ruin to the world! We can never go home, ever!" The professor began crying. "If it wasn't for someone messing with the blood samples—"

Everyone spoke now, but the general summary of what everyone said could be the one simple word I said:

"_What?_"

"Oh, the blood samples! Someone broke into the locker with the blood samples! Oohhh…"

Everyone entered the biological lab, Cuthbert leading us into it. The locker looked like something took a huge, slashing bite out of it. Red dripped out and into a puddle surrounding the storage unit.

"You mean we drew that blood for _nothing_?" Palmer asked. "Shit!"

Cuthbert aimed the gun at us again. "I will give you all one chance to confess! Who ruined the samples? WHO! Blair and I enter the lab this morning after breakfast only to find the locker in shambles!"

He jiggled the gun.

"Who?"

The room turned dark. I could not see a thing. We all scrambled around the laboratory. Glass things broke. I heard someone cry out in pain, most likely from some sort of acid.

When the generator did not kick on after a couple of minutes, I heard Calculus say:

"Oh, I do have to do everything for you incompetent rats! I shall go check the generator and fuses! I want to see the face of the culprit to this horrendous vandalism crime!"

"Cuthbert, don't move! Cuthbert! CUTHBERT, QUIT ACTING THE GOAT!"

I expected a reaction from him. I heard none.

"…Cuthbert?"


	8. Chapter Eight

**Chapter Eight**

8888

My face softened.

"…Cuthbert?"

"How odd," Tintin said, "I was expecting the professor to come in and try to find and whack you about when you said that, Captain."

I shivered. "That was my intention…"

Someone did need to check on the power, but the professor was not the best person for the job. For all I know, his vision was even worse than mine, if his glasses proved anything. Further, did he even know where the power room was?

Or maybe it was an excuse to get away from every—

…_Wait…_

"Who's in here?" I asked.

"I'm in here, Captain," Tintin said.

"I'm here," Nauls said.

"I'm here," said Clark.

"Here," Windows said.

"Here," Childs said.

"Present," Copper said.

"I'm in here," Norris said.

No word from Garry, Palmer, or MacReady.

"Copper," Childs said, "Do you know where the flashlights are in this room?"

"Uh… last top drawer on the left."

Childs found two torchlights and tested their battery life.

"Nauls, come with me," He said.

The men closed the door behind them. Most of us shuddered from the chill. Even if the lights remained shut off, a little heat would have been nice. Every time I breathed, I wondered if they would eventually solidify into ice upon exhaling.

We heard the sounds of a man yelling clear from the other side of the building.

"Oh no," Tintin said. "I think I know that scream…"

And then down came the rain. The sprinklers on the ceiling activated, the fire alarm sounded. Water drizzled onto our hair, over our clothes, and everywhere. I could only pray that none of the chemicals in the laboratory would explode upon contact.

The lights shut back on. The sprinklers stopped wetting and freezing us. The alarm stopped, but my ears rang like as if a child was playing with a bell. We could feel a slight, but significant warmth reenter the room.

Nauls ran back in, slipped on the wet floor, and smashed into Windows and Copper.

The rollerblading kid, eyes wider than silver dollar pieces, seemed to forget how to breathe until Tintin asked:

"What's wrong, Nauls? What happened?"

Windows and Copper helped him back onto his feet.

"We… We found… We found the professor."

"How is he? Is he okay? We thought we heard him screaming."

"He's burnt to a crisp, like someone set him on fire! Dead as a doornail. _Dead!_"

"Childs and I found MacReady's jacket by the body. It was covered in blood."

Tintin put two and two together. "Then that means…"

MacReady entered the room, making sure to watch his steps on the wet, slick floor.

"Fire demon! Engulfer! Spook! How could you?"

MacReady raised a brow, crossed his arms. "How could I do _what?_"

"Murder the professor!" Tintin said. "That's pretty _evil_ to ambush a man in the dark!"

The pilot let out a laugh. Like something of this magnitude was something to be laughed about… "And what makes you believe that I did such a thing?"

"Look at what we found by the crime scene!"

A brown bomber jacket drenched in blood flew across the room, smacking against the wall. It left a red spot much like what appears after a slap in the face.

Childs came in with Palmer and Garry behind him. MacReady walked to the jacket. I gagged at the "squish" sound the jacket made as he opened it up.

"Great snakes, it really _is_ his jacket…"

Windows, Nauls, and Copper moved further back away from him.

"Oh come on! Are you guys really going to say I'm guilty on circumstantial evidence? It's so clear that I've been set up!"

"How can we know for sure, Mac?" Clark said. "You disappeared after the power died."

"I couldn't have been the only person that left the room! Wasn't there someone else?"

"Yes, but there's your jacket!"

"Shut up, Clark. You have a better chance of being a thing than I am. You stayed around the dogs the most. And so is the reporter guy."

"Now listen to me! If you accuse Tintin _one more blasted time_—"

"You know what? I'm smelling another fish!" He pointed at me. "_You,_ Haddock!"

"_Me?_ Why _me_?"

"Enough of this bullshit!" Garry yelled. "Someone restrain MacReady immediately!"

When Clark withdrew his issued handgun, hidden under his padded jacket, from his belt, MacReady took out his own and aimed it at Clark. There was a bang, and then Clark dropped down on the ground, blood squirting from his chest. His fingers still clenched the firearm. Blood splattered on Nauls, Windows, and Copper. MacReady breathed deeply, as if he attempted to remain macho.

"Blistering barnacles…"

Tintin jumped towards Clark and squatted over him. He growled when he looked at the pilot. "You monster! Why did you kill him?"

"He was going to kill me," MacReady said. "I just won the quick draw, that's all."

My last friend on Earth got back on his feet. Tintin clenched his teeth and fists, his face ember red. "First you kill Tilikum… Then you kill Bennings… And now you just slayed Clark… Who will you kill next? Do you want to kill me? Will that make you happy?"

"You believe I'm actually getting pleasure from this? What are you, my therapist?"

"… Shoot me."

"Tintin, lad! Where are your marbles? Quit saying that!"

"I know what I'm doing, Captain!" He snapped, turning to me. He resumed facing MacReady as he said, "Would you like to prove that I'm an alien? Well, shoot me! If I die for nothing than that's on your conscience!"

"I'm not shooting you," MacReady said. "Quit being a little jackass."

"MacReady's right, Tintin! Quit being a fool! Please, just come back to me! We'll get this cleared up somehow, lad!"

Part of my motive was out of genuine concern for Tintin. It sounded silly when the words came out, but I really wanted to make sure the lad did not die over such a useless cause. The other part was selfish—the lad being in my life brought me a second chance at life. Without Tintin, I was nothing.

"I don't believe it."

Tintin dove and wrenched the handgun from Clark's dead rigid fingers.

And then I heard another bang.

"TINTIN!"

My best friend, my most trusted confidant, my surrogate son, dropped to his knees. The gun clattered to the floor. I almost slid on the floor as I leaned to over his body, my back against the table in the center of the room. Blood spread throughout the center of his pullover. His eyes were still halfway open, the life inside them about to be extinguished forever.

I let tears fall, and I did not care if it was considered "unmanly" or otherwise. For that moment, Tintin and I were the only people on Earth as far as I was concerned.

"Blast it, Tintin! Blast it!" I held him against my lap. "Thundering typhoons, lad! What were you trying to prove?"

Tintin opened his mouth. Blood dripped down over his chin and onto his chest.

"Please don't speak! I'm worried about the b—"

Tintin's tongue shot out. But it was not a normal tongue. I jumped and crawled crab style under the table when the slick pink tongue as long as his head whipped against my face. I watched from the other side of the table in frozen terror as Tintin's head split in two, and more red tentacles of human muscle than I could count shot out like party poppers.

MacReady and everyone else retreated back behind me. I heard a huge "thump" behind me, but I did not bother to look. Tintin fixated my attention.

Tintin turned around, his face initially facing down on the ground. His arms flapped onto the table. His fingers appeared to have doubled on each hand, and they were clawed like an animal's. Bones in his arms snapped and jabbed out through his skin and twisted and contorted around each other like a hair braid.

I shrieked at the top of my lungs when Tintin finally looked up.

His tongue split in two. His eyes appeared to have melted and fused together, but even then it was not a perfect Cyclops eyeball. Blood squirted from his chest onto the table.

Tintin-Thing climbed onto the table. As his crawled, his bones still cracking with every jerked move, I heard a scream…

"Caaaaaapppptaaaaaiiiiiinnnn, killlllllll meeeeeeeee…"

One of his skull tentacles shot towards me. I screamed, scared stiff, until MacReady pushed me to the floor and set Tintin ablaze with a flamethrower. He pulled me back up and dragged me out of the laboratory as Tintin, or the thing that took over Tintin, screeched.

"What is wrong with you?" MacReady said, still dragging me towards another room. "He was about to kill you!"

My only response was hysterical crying. I felt a slap, which made me scream and cry even harder.

MacReady dropped me to the floor when we arrived at the infirmary. I cannot remember who else was there. Does it matter anyway?

"Copper, I got another for you when you're done with Norris!"

"Try to calm Haddock down, Mac!" Copper said. "The last thing Norris's heart needs is more of that!"

The doctor recharged the defibrillator things and raised them above Norris's chest. Copper emitted a yell I could hear among my own when he lowered the pads. When he raised his arms back up, all that were remained were bloody stumps. I whacked my head against the wall back and forth as hard as I could as my throat bled raw.

Norris's head separated from his head, green goo splattering all over Copper before he collapsed from blood loss.

"KILL ME!" I screamed at the head crawling on daddy long legs along the ceiling. "I WANNA GO HOME! KILL ME SO I CAN GO HOME! I WANNA GO HOOO-"

Something hit me on the head. I groaned before my head lowered into my chest and I lost consciousness.


	9. Chapter Nine

**Chapter Nine**

9999

I woke up in the recreation room, tied up with Garry and Palmer on wooden chairs. Childs, Nauls and Windows stood far apart from each other to my right. Clark and Copper's bodies were on a pile on the floor. MacReady, still armed with the flamethrower he used earlier, set items like masking tape on what used to be the playing card table. Under the table was another flamethrower. The TV was no longer in front of the couch, but to the side. But then again, there weren't three chairs chained together with ropes in the center of the room before.

I struggled in my bondage.

MacReady aimed his flamethrower at me. "Easy there, partner."

"What's going on?" I asked. "Why am I tied up? Why are _they_ tied up?"

MacReady began labeling petri dishes with masking tape and marker.

"We're doing the blood tests again. We're going to find out who else is a thing once and for all. Blair mentioned how there was no hive mentality among the alien cells. Well, as I was watching Norris, I got an idea—that the whole infected organism is made up of individual beings.

"You see men—when a man bleeds, it's just tissue. Blood is just blood. But a thing's blood is alive—it will try to survive by any needs necessary. It will defend it is attacked, say, by a hot needle."

Blood collection was by scapel and blood trickling into a labeled petri dish. First was Nauls, and then Childs, and then Windows, and so forth.

I grunted as MacReady sliced my thumb open. "Why am I tied up? Why are _they_ tied up?"

"Palmer was unaccounted for during the blackout. Aside from Blair and Calculus, Garry had access to the blood locker. So he's the most likely suspect for that. And you… Well, you were Tintin's roommate. Put the math together."

I remembered something about Tintin. Something significant. The Tintin-thing licked me. A quick whap of the tongue, but it was contact. Was that enough to infect me? Was I one of those… things?

MacReady tested Windows's blood first. He heated up an exposed wire with the flamethrower, and then dipped the hot red metal into the dish.

No reaction. There was a hiss, but that was from heat contact, not from a creature in distress.

MacReady turned to Windows. "It appears that you are okay. Take that and watch them."

Windows aimed the flamethrower at me. Not at me directly, but I wish he did.

"Roast me now," I pleaded.

"We're not doing anything with you until we make sure you're human or not," MacReady said.

"But I'm infected! I _know_ I am! Take me out while I _still_ look human!"

"Fine, I'll do you next, but only after I prove what I know for sure first."

MacReady tested his blood. No reaction.

"What a crock of bullshit," Childs growled.

"Not if I proved myself right," MacReady said.

No reaction came from my blood sample.

"That's not right," I said. "There's something wrong with that blood! Maybe it hasn't spread to my hands yet! Kill me before I'm totally infected!"

"Shut it, Haddock," MacReady said as he heated a new wire.

He tested the doctor and dog handler next. No reaction from both.

"So Clark was human, huh?" Childs said. "You're a killer, you know that?"

"He won't be a killer if he killed me!"

"For the last time, Haddock, shut the hell up! We proved you're human already!"

"Your test does not prove anything!" Garry yelled. "There's no proof or meaning with this test!"

"I thought you would say that." MacReady said, picking up Palmer's sample. "Fine then, we'll do you last…"

Instead of a hiss, the blood shrieked. MacReady dropped the petri dish to the floor. The blood droplets spread away from the petri dish, moving about the floor.

MacReady and Windows tried starting their flamethrowers. Childs and Nauls scrambled against the wall. Everyone screamed. "GET BACK! GET BACK!"

Palmer quacked. His eyeballs popped out of their sockets and his face contorted into wrinkles and nothingness. His hands and feet filleted into red ribbons and his legs jumped in length. Garry's whole body leaned against mine as the chairs began to move like that of a child's teeter totter. The chairs landed when Palmer-thing jumped into the air and caught itself on the ceiling.

"Windows, kill him!"

Windows aimed at Palmer, but struggled with the ignition. Palmer landed on the ground, sneered at Windows. Windows froze in fear as Palmer-thing's skull split in two, just like Tintin's. Unlike Tintin, however, this monster had teeth. A tentacle wrapped around Windows's neck and thrust him towards the monster. His head, but the screaming indicated that the radio operator was still alive. His body shook about in the air, striking against lamps before it was finally flung against a bookshelf. A shot of fire struck the Palmer-thing . It still moved and ran towards MacReady when he blasted it again. This time it ran through the plywood wall, leaving a gaping hole in the room. The pilot finished off the blazing body with a well-aimed grenade.

Palmer was taken care of. Now Windows was of concern. I prayed I would be next after that.

Windows attempted to get back up when MacReady set him aflame. Fire consumed the bookshelf, the book, the wall, Windows. He jerked about before finally ceasing.

The pilot wiped his forehead as he dropped the flamethrower.

"MACREADY! Untie us _now_!" Garry yelled.

"Don't untie me! I'm dangerous! I'm going to change soon, I just know it!" My tears froze halfway down my cheeks.

"Okay, we will leave you, Haddock! But personally I would rather not spend the rest of my time here tied to a fucking chair!"

And so they left me.


	10. Chapter Ten

**Chapter Ten**

10101010

I hoped to die soon.

It was cold and dark in the recreation room's remains, especially after Windows's corpse stopped burning.

All I wanted was to die. I hoped that the chill would do it. I hoped to freeze slowly, because a quick death was a mercy killing. I did not deserve mercy, nor pity.

I knew that the test was a crock of nonsense. I just knew that I was infected. I was no longer human—I had become a monster. I _looked_ human, but so did Tintin before he changed. I deserved to freeze to death. What irony that I could survive the moon and the Himalayas but I could not survive half a week at the South Pole. I was going to die here, whether by my hand, or Mother Nature's, or someone else's.

_I wonder if monsters go to hell when they die_, I thought.

"_Stop that, Captain!"_

Oh great. Now I was hallucinating.

"_Are you really going to give up now?"_ The Tintin in my head said. _"You can't! The other men need you! The real alien is set to leave the continent soon—we must stop it! And they can't do it without you!"_

"How can I trust you? How can I trust me? What if I change and kill them all on sight?"

"_You won't, trust me. Captain, please trust me. It hurts me seeing you like this. At the least, if not for you, do it for me. You've… always done it all for me, haven't you?"_

"…"

"_Don't let me down, Captain. You can do it. I know you can do it…"_

"There is no way in hell I'm going to fail you now," I breathed. I wiggled, fought, thrust myself forward and backward, anything to loosen the rope.

"I'm not going to fail you. I'm not going to fail you!..."

I felt a weak spot, as if Snowy chewed on the ropes a little.

"I'M NOT GOING TO FAIL YOU!"

And with a violent shove of my arms, the ropes broke. I inhaled and exhaled deeply.

_Well I'll be damned. I still have some of my old strength left… _

I exited through the gaping hole in the wall just as another gust of snow flurried inside.

I stumbled throughout the snow, shivering. I somehow lost my parka and was now just in a jacket and pullover. The winter sky was full dark with no stars or even a moon. Wind whipped across my body as I advanced, having no real idea where I was going.

Maybe I shouldn't have trusted the voice in my head after all.

I was just about to give up when I came near the housing quarters.

"Hey! Stop! Halt! Childs, is that you?"

I stopped in my tracks at MacReady's command. "No! I'm not Childs!"

A light shone in my face. I saw three figures in the distance right behind it.

"Haddock," Garry said, "How the hell did you get here?"

"By a date with fate," I said. "I'm not going to kill you unless you try to kill me. Got it?"

MacReady sighed. "Fine, come over here with us."

"So where's Childs?" I asked as we continued in the snow.

"Childs is guarding camp, making sure that Blair does not attempt to reenter the main complex," Garry said, "That is, if he hasn't already…"

"What do you mean?"

"When the light was out, I was looking for Blair. He was nowhere to be found in the building. We just checked his room—he is not there. Nor is he in the hangar, which leaves only a shed just a few more hundred yards from where we are standing right now."

"We have yet to test Blair," MacReady said. "I tested everyone else after we left you—we're all human. Yes, including you, Mister 'I'm a Thing and I Just Know It.'"

MacReady knocked on the door to the shed when we arrived.

"Hey, Blair! It's MacReady! Open up!"

No response.

Knock-knock. "Open the damn door, Blair! We know you're in there!"

Still no response.

"Okay, I'm opening this door myself if you do not open it at the count of three! One, two, three! Nauls, give me the axe!"

MacReady smashed a large hole in the door before opening it. "What the fuck…"

"What? What's wrong?" Garry asked.

"You guys aren't going to believe this…"

The room was dark, having no light source, but I could tell that there was no one in the shed. Or, anything for that matter. Strange, considering how the place was padlocked from the inside…

"Blistering barnacles, where could he be then?"

Nauls moved the center of the small shed. He yelped as the plank his feet were under flipped up, causing him to trip.

MacReady took a closer look as Nauls scrambled towards Garry and me. Up went planks, lifted away and tossed to the other side of the shed.

"Garry, give me the lantern. I'm going down…"

And down the tunnel he went. Garry insisted on us following him shortly after he disappeared, and so we jumped a couple of meters down into the hole.

The tunnel was a couple of average men wide and as tall as one. If this was created within hours by one person, then Blair was definitely not human anymore.

The tunnel went on forever until we came across a large room where the trail ended.

Our mouths gaped.

The dug out room was easily the same size as a football field. Barrels of food and other supplies lined the walls. I could see light bulbs stringed about on the ceiling, implying an electric connection somewhere. A hole was in the ceiling, with a ladder trailing out of it.

But that was not the most shocking thing.

Taking up the bulk of the room was a makeshift craft. I noticed a bloody piece of curved metal on one of its sides—it was possibly Tintin's metal plate, disposed of after he changed.

"Hey… Well I'll be damned! While we were going to look at the locker, Blair must have been collecting debris from the hangars. Look!"

Sure enough, along with Tintin's metal plate, I saw charred metal painted with American military symbols and numbers.

"What could be Blair be doing, then?" Garry asked.

"Can't you see?" I said. "He's trying to escape!"

"If he escapes…" Nauls said, "Then…"

"Like hell he's leaving," said MacReady. "I'm putting a stop to his flight plans even if it's the last thing I do."

"And how are we going to do that?" I asked.

"We're going to set this fucker on fire. Load this place with all the explosives we can find, climb up the hole, light a match, and…"

"Before we do that, let's check to see where the hole goes to in the first place," Garry pointed out.

MacReady sighed. "Nauls, go up the ladder."

"Why me?"

"You're the rookie! The rookies get the worst jobs! So get up there!"

Nauls took a step.

"Wait, let me go, guys. I'm the oldest one of us here. I have nothing to lose if there is something dangerous up there."

"Why should we trust you, Haddock?" MacReady asked. "One minute you insist you're a monster and then the next you insist you're human. No offense dude, but your brains are _scrambled_ and _fried_. I'm worried that you will get us killed if you do anything alone."

I sighed. Nauls continued up the ladder, poked his head up.

"Hey, guys! This is right outside of the dog kennel! Isn't there an ammunitions room close to that?"

"There is!" Garry confirmed.

"Come on, guys, let's grab everything in there and blow some shit up!"

Garry stayed down in the hole to strategically place the explosions around the makeshift craft as MacReady, Nauls and I picked up crates of TNT and slowly climbed down the ladder to drop them off.

It was going well. Too well.

I was about to lift another crate when Nauls said:

"Say, did anyone else forget about Childs?"

"What about him?"

"Childs was supposed to wait for us outside. But we've been in here for awhile. I wonder what he's doing."

"Shit!" MacReady said. "I forgot all about him. Nauls, you and Haddock go see if Childs is still outside. Garry and I will finish this."

"And what if Childs is gone?" Nauls asked.

"Then just come back. I'll deal with him if he comes by here."

Nauls and I walked down the main corridor towards the central entrance and exit to the main building. The lights were still on, but Nauls still carried a torchlight just to be prepared.

"Hey, uh, Haddock?"

"Yes?"

"I'm uh, sorry about Tintin. And I'm sorry for calling him a Frenchie. Just wanted to tell you that when I got the chance."

I inhaled. The regret was genuine. I patted his back. "Apology accepted, lad. I guess you're more mature than I thought you were."

"What do you mean more mat—"

We heard a rattle and bang.

"Do you have a gun?"

"Me? I'm the fucking chef! What would I need a gun for?"

The power went out.

"Blistering barnacles!"

Nauls switched his torch on. "Captain, what do you think we should do?"

"Well, we're unarmed, so I believe that the best thing we should do is…"

I heard a loud growl.

"Run for your life, Nauls!"

To my surprise, I ran faster than the boy did. I tripped on a shoelace halfway towards the dog kennel, but managed to swiftly get back on my feet. I was about to reach the door when I heard Nauls scream in pain. Then I heard a gurgle, a finished yelp, and that was it for the rollerblading chef.

I saw a large mass coming down the corridor right before I swung the door open.

"MACREADY!" I yelled by the ladder. "We have a problem!"

"What the hell happened?" MacReady asked, poking his head out of the hole.

I had to be white as a ghost. "Blair's here. And he just got Nauls."

"You're kidding."

"Why would I kid about something serious like this?"

I heard a large crack coming from the behind me.

"Oh _fuck._" MacReady said. "Follow me."

We both climbed down the hole, ran as far away from it as we could.

"What the hell is going on?" Garry asked.

"You'll find out in a minute," I said, breathing hard.

The Blair-thing cracked the hole, sending debris onto the floor as he jumped down.

This monster was the most massive out of all the things I had encountered in the past couple of days—it stretched to near the entire height of the room. Similar to Pan or Poseidon, only with brown elephant-like legs in place of a goat's legs or fish tail, the long tall half was old Blair's torso and up. Half of his face was replaced with a complete horse-like head. And the tail… at the end was another face one more alien than all the rest.

A third, clawed arm grew from the monster. It grabbed at Garry, its closest target. Garry screamed as he flew across the air. His body made a "crack" sound when it struck against the hard ice covered wall. He did not move after his body slumped to the ground with a smear of blood.

Blair's roar echoed throughout the dugout, causing it to softly quake.

"Haddock! Move with me back towards the tunnel! Let's get out of here!"

MacReady and I retreated through the tunnel, his lantern being the only source of light we had. I knew that Blair had to be following us. The tunnel wasn't breaking, so he was most likely crawling towards us.

"Thundering typhoons! For much farther do we have to go?"

I'm positive that I wasn't drunk on adrenaline I would've been unable to climb out the tunnel and into the shed on my own. MacReady and I, me behind him, fled the shed and ran towards the main complex. Blair tore through the roof and continued its pursuit after it finished demolishing the shed.

We saw Childs outside the entrance. Well, we found the pieces to him outside the entrance.

"Sweet fucking Jesus," MacReady said.

MacReady and I frantically kicked and threw the frozen limbs and internal organs away from the door so that we could enter.

"We need to blow the whole fucking place down," the pilot declared as we ran down the same hallway Nauls died in.

"Are you crazy?" I yelled.

"Calculus was right—we aren't going to ever leave here alive. And even if we die, I don't want this thing to survive off supplies until Spring comes. I'm not letting that fucking happen. Not even over my fucking dead body."

I slipped on something slick. I landed on my face on something squishy, cool, and scented of iron.

"Blistering! …"

I had to be infected now. I had to be. I could taste Nauls's remains on my tongue, smell it in my nostrils.

Blair roared again.

"Come on, Haddock! We gotta get to the remaining explosives!"

MacReady pulled on a flamethrower pack, held the actual weapon with both hands. I stuffed my pockets with hand grenades. I could hear Blair roar nearby.

"Fuck the grenades! We need to throw some plastic, some TNT!"

Instead of strategically placing the dynamite about the torn hallway entrance, I just started throwing sticks. I emptied an entire crate before tossing an armed grenade towards Blair.

It and some sticks detonated, blasting away the hallway and several rooms. But Blair was still alive. Scorched, and spreading flames throughout the wreckage, but alive. It roared in anger and it crawled closer to MacReady and me.

MacReady pushed me out of the way.

"Yeah, fuck you too!" He yelled before starting the flamethrower. This licked more flames on the creature, and this time more dynamite exploded from the flaming monster. Blair blasted apart, pieces showering everywhere. None got on MacReady, who smashed an entrance out for us, but I got blood and guts all over my clothing, into an eye. If Nauls did not infect me, then Blair did.

I lied on the snow and watched as MacReady detonated everything in sight. The housing complex, the remains of the shed, the hangar.

MacReady eventually sat down beside me. He held a liquor bottle in hand.

"Want some?" He said, opening the bottle.

I shook my head. "I think I got infected when we were fighting Blair."

"Quit being paranoid, you old sea dog," MacReady said. He took a swig and turned the bottle to me.

I shook and sobbed as I knew I was about to infect MacReady too.

"I'm sorry, MacReady, I'm sorry…"

My eye dripped out of its socket.


End file.
